


Pretty...

by Splotcher



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Demons, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 15:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1190442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splotcher/pseuds/Splotcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Offdenson and Nathan have always worked together well. He absolutely loves his pretty. Companion piece to the He's got a Secret entries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty...

**Author's Note:**

> You should check out Crow821’s artwork (http://crow821.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4qutna) which is actually the inspiration for Charles in this piece. I hope you all enjoy- this is a companion piece to He’s Got A Secret. Now Nathan’s got one too. :)
> 
> I don't own metalocalypse. But I love comments anyway.

Stupid priests with their stupid water and stupid holy scripture! It burns…

 

And he’s torn his suit! His lovely expensive suit…Oh, he’s going to pay for this…

 

“Put that thing in a cell! I’ll deal with it later…” His voice tapers off into a growl. Stupid man! He’d show the bastard, show him good…

 

Klokateers scramble to and fro, fear evident. Let them be afraid! They should be afraid! They’ll never tell…they know the consequences, they know he gets hungry…

 

He snarls to himself in demonic speech as he scatters Gears left and right, stomping out of the room. He needs to get this holy water off, and what he needs is not here.

 

His office is reached through back passages-it’s the quickest way, and the water fucking burns. 

 

His prize is in the bathroom, slyly labeled under ‘pure spring water’. It’s the one way to ensure his pretty boy does not touch it. He pours the unholy concoction on himself, relishing the rare relief of pain. 

 

Nothing burns like Holy water. And it has nasty side effects.

 

A look in the mirror confirms his suspicions-the suit is ruined. That little…he’s going to make him regret the day he took the cloth! He should have come with an army of priests, not alone! That in itself was an insult!

 

He snarls, yanking the remaining shreds of the dress shirt and coat off. It was a good suit!

 

In the mirror stares back at him the beginning of a figure he hasn’t seen in a while. It pleases him that the human component hangs on-it means that he’s fully integrated with this body and it will take a monumental amount of scripture to ever get him out. Spikes adorn his back and shoulders, and a lovely set of horns poke out his hair. Red demon flesh artistically rings his eyes, and oh, his eyes…they shift back to demon even now. The eyes really do tell everything, don’t they? And right now, they tell he’s rather handsome. Oh yes. Not bad for a rightfully appropriated body and an old demon. 

 

A loud click makes him fall out of lust with his appearance. There is another in his rooms…who could it be?

 

If it is a Klokateer, it had better have a good reason for disturbing him. Or have brought him something to make him feel better. They did that sometimes, the ones who knew…left him little…presents.

 

But in his living room is not a Klokateer, it is not. It is not.

 

It is his pretty boy, looking befuddled until he lays eyes upon him.

 

They stare at each other for a while. He’s not sure how his pretty boy will react, seeing him …exposed. Oh there’s no chance of him leaving. He could never leave. Ever. 

 

He doesn’t miss his pretty boy inching for the door. That won’t do, it won’t! He shoots forward, long metallic tail whipping behind him, and tackles his pretty boy to the floor.

 

The look of shock on his pretty boy’s face makes him purr with excitement. He would be lying if a scenario like this didn’t play out in his mind every once in a while. His pretty boy on his back, straddling his pretty boy…

 

“And just where is it you’re going, Pretty?” 

 

“Uh…you shouldn’t really be here…my manager does not like trespassers…and…uh…I’m pretty sure he going to be mad at you…and …uh…it would be a shame if he killed…you…”

 

“OH? And why ever is that?” He grins, folding his arms across his Pretty’s chest, settling his head there to look into his eyes. 

 

“Well..you…uh…look pretty brutal…uh…I should go.”

 

“Oh no…no no no…you aren’t going anywhere. And it’s been so long since you said that to me, my pretty…you’ll stay right here until I’m finished with you. And then…we’ll see.” He fingers the black shirt under him, drawing claws lightly across the threads. “Tell me, pretty…do I excite you?”

 

His Pretty swallows hard. “Charles will be angry. He’ll mess you up.”

 

He’s flattered. His pretty, pretty boy still thinking of him even though he knows the boy is so damn excited that he could break at any second…oh but for such loyalty. He’ll be kind…age must be making him soft! But with his age comes his pretty, pretty boy…all his.

 

“Mmmm….Nathan, do you remember what we did on the desk last week?” He purrs, laying boneless across his chest, playing with his Pretty’s hair. “Remember when I told you that you’d always be mine…forever?” 

 

He leans in close to his Pretty’s ear, dragging his body across the overeager one below. His voice pitches low…intimate. “I meant it. You’re mine, and I won’t ‘mess up’ those that attempt you. I’ll destroy them.” And he giggles.

 

His Pretty gasps, wide eyed. “C-Charles?”

 

He rips off the shirt of his Pretty and discards it. It’s useless. He presses teasing kisses to his Pretty’s chest, just like he would if this had been any other time…then he bites.

 

“Fuck! Your teeth are sharp! Charles!”

 

He giggles to himself again, licking a bit of blood from the wound. It was only a love bite. He could have done so much more, but then his Pretty wouldn’t be.

 

He straightens up, sliding back down his Pretty’s body. He can feel the erection through the jeans. So lovely. So delicious. 

 

He ruts against it, feeling the muted pleasure of them rubbing together through layers of clothes. He loves to torture himself, it makes the feeling of sex so much better. He spreads his legs farther apart, getting closer to that friction, thrusting and grinding wantonly…He could come like this…he should come like this. 

 

He places his hands lovingly on his Pretty, then digs his claws in, thrusting hard. His pretty yelps at the pain, arching up. They rub together hard.

 

He comes, ruining the rest of his suit. But it’s alright when he does it.

 

He purrs, claws still lightly digging into flesh, and thrusts possessively again. He finds his Pretty is not yet done, and starts giggling again.

 

“Aw…what’s the matter, Pretty? Still having a little issue?”

 

His Pretty is staring up at him with wide, shocked, aroused eyes. So very nice. He could get used to that. Very used to it. 

 

Then Pretty reaches up and touches him.

 

And what is this now, hmm? This reverence as he traces fingers down the chest to rest on that red gear marking his side? 

 

Could it be…no, no surely not…and yet…

 

His Pretty sits up, running a big hand across his chest, lightly brushing a Hellscrew and wasn’t that so very nice…It made him tingle in good ways…

 

“You have screws…” His Pretty whispers, thumbing over one again. “You’re like…actual metal.”

 

He shivers deliciously. His Pretty watches him in wonder. “You have to be…the most brutal thing ever.”

 

He moans. What a little tease! “Mmmmhahaheh….I’m so glad you think so…how about I help you out a bit…give you a hand…” He slides a hand down to stroke his Pretty.

 

“No!”

 

He stops, confused. Why no?

 

“I wanna fuck you.” His Pretty whispers.

 

Well…since he asked so nicely.

 

He gives his pretty a toothy smile which only seems to make him more excited, and in a few moments of discarded clothes and breathless exclamations of brutality (Pretty’s) punctuated with convulsive giggling, he finds himself in his Pretty’s lap, chest to chest on the couch. He wouldn’t have minded a different position, but he didn’t want his spikes to claw his Pretty raw, no no. 

 

His Pretty kisses him. It is altogether surprising, that he would do it…no one kissed demons. Not even demons kissed demons. But his Pretty does it, accentuating it with a hard thrust that makes his tail and his toes curl.

 

Pretty, pretty boy. Pretty boy growling into his ears with a dark angel’s voice, growling dark-sin filled morsels…so good. 

 

A particularly well placed thrust makes him shout, yanking his Pretty’s hair hard.

 

It is then he realizes…his Pretty’s eyes are red. Glowing red like destruction…oh. Oh!

 

He doesn’t have time to react before his Pretty transforms from lovely, pretty boy to a giant being awash in red energy that smelt like blood and fire, war and death. The scent and aura plows through him, leaving him an aroused puddle of desire and need and submission.

 

The glorious sight strokes a hand across his horns, making him whimper before it yanks his head back. He would never do this for another, never… but for this god of destruction, he would gladly. He had no choice.

 

Hot breath flows across his skin before a mouth latches solidly on his collarbone, biting at a hellscrew. He bucks and writhes….never in his many, many years has he been treated this way and wanted it so badly.

 

The vision chuckles. “I’m going to make you beg. And then we’ll see who the Pretty is.”

 

He cannot help but moan as that dark voice coils around him.

 

It then starts a punishing pace, powerful thrusts slamming into him and he’s drowning, lost in that terrible aura. He’s aware he is starting to beg, oh yes. In devilish and human tongues. His cries begin taking on a feverish pitch-any hell spawn in the next twenty miles is going to know what he’s doing.

 

“Say my name.” The dark god grips him tight. “Say it!”

 

He knows what the dark one is really telling him. If he says the name, he’ll submit entirely. He’ll be owned by this dark god of destruction.

 

“ngh…N…NATHAN!” He comes so hard that he can’t think, he can only register a Dark God’s growl of approval before it claims him entirely.

 

“You’re mine now, Pretty.” His dark god growls in his ear. He whimpers in needy response.

 

As if he could ever say no.


End file.
